For Your Sake Brother
by Decisions Are Hard
Summary: Mycroft wouldn't let a little thing like morals prevent him from saving his little brother from himself. So he doesn't and while his plan may look extreme to the majority of the world he sleeps well knowing that it worked. Sometimes extreme measures are the best measures in the end. After all what does the opinion of the world matter to a man who looks at caring as a disadvantage.
1. Chapter 1

_I do not own this show at all. Now that that is out of the way please enjoy the story._

Mycroft Holmes looked out over the Conservatory Garden that took up most of his estate. Having the Garden built against his office made it impossible to open the windows but he could see into some of the Garden so he was willing to make the small sacrifice. His brother had been impossible when he'd first had the Conservatory Garden constructed. He'd been a right terror and an addict to drugs, cigarettes, and chasing after dangerous criminals. His little brother was destroying himself and Mycroft had been powerless to stop him.

The solution had come to him from an odd source. Mycroft had been reading Rappaccini's Garden in between meetings and had been inspired. If Sherlock could not be persuaded to behave then he would be forced to. He'd gone to Baskerville and told the scientists his ideas and they had reacted with ecstatic excitement. It had taken them less than a year to perfect the serum. The animals they tested it on responded well and within the two years since they started they had it ready for human testing.

Sherlock had hated him when he was first dragged back to the Baskerville labs from a drug den. He was high as a kite ranting and raving about innocence and guilt. He'd screamed and begged and acted out as only Sherlock could. He'd bitten the scientists and refused to get dressed in the test subject uniform Mycroft had had specially designed for him. He fought bitterly and had to be strapped down still in his ratty torn up clothing. But in the end he had submitted to the whims of the scientists. Mycroft suspected that hatred still simmered under the surface but as long as his brother behaved he was quite fine with being hated. Sherlock's hatred was worth it to see his hard work rewarded in a healthy younger brother.

The trip from Baskerville to the Conservatory Garden was littered with countless escape attempts that nearly cost a few good men their lives. One almost successful attempt had ended with them chasing his brother to where he was in an alleyway crying over the corpse of a deceased dog. Mycroft had it autopsied and as he suspected it had died from Sherlock's toxin. His brother had come quietly after that incident and had shied away from the test subjects they released into the Conservatory Garden with him. Eventually though his brother had begun to warm up to them when he found they were in no danger from him.

Things had changed for the better and with proper protection he could interact with his brother without fear of dying. A small smirk grew on his face as he saw his younger brother sitting over one of his rarer specimens breathing the scent of it in deeply. The Grey Holmes Bee's he'd had engineered buzzed around his brother and once more he was grateful for them. They were one of the only things that could survive in the Conservatory Garden besides the test subjects of course. The flowers were too deadly to support any regular animal life. Any other bugs they had tried to use to pollinate the Conservatory Garden ended up dead the instant they were released. According to Sherlock the honey was phenomenal and it pleased him to know that there was something his brother enjoyed from all this.

The Garden had thrived as Sherlock did and it had grown well over the eight years that Sherlock had been confined there. Sherlock helped the grounds keeper Mrs. Hudson tend it as he was the only one who could, for now at least. He hadn't so much as touched an illicit substance since the beginning of the project. The only real issue his plan had shown so far was that Sherlock had been wilting as of late. Sherlock was lifeless. No insults, no threats, no glaring at the guards, no playing of his violin, and no smiling at Mrs. Hudson's maternal affections.

His brother had taken to retreating into himself spending days in his mind palace. He didn't eat or drink or even move for days at a time. He didn't reveal any so called secrets and he didn't even sulk. He might as well have been a statue if not for the way he inhaled the scent of the plants every day. Mycroft almost missed the early days when Sherlock screamed at him constantly. At least then Sherlock had still been Sherlock, but now his brother needed him to rescue him from himself again.

Mycroft had his suspicions of why Sherlock was fading. He and Mrs. Hudson were the only real visitors Sherlock had. No one else could stand to be around his little brother for very long or at all as most cases seemed to be. The doctors and the scientists running the project were cold to him and he returned their ire tenfold. The company of plants and animals was no substitute for human companionship and loath as he was to admit it Sherlock needed more than he could provide. His brother needed a companion, a friend, someone who could pull him out of the shadows he was slipping into.

Mycroft looked over the files on his desk again perusing through the data looking for someone that would click. So far he had seen only one that would withstand his brothers scathing tongue and shining personality. The only glimmer of hope he had was a recently discharged army doctor, the only issue he had that posed a problem was the psychosomatic limp. Then again the limp could prove useful, make it harder for the Doctor to get away if he ever began to feel threatened.

He turned to his assistant who sat typing on her phone seemingly dead to the world."Set up a reconnaissance team and file on DR. John H. Watson. Put it down under Project Hawthorn and alert me when the director gives the green light."

She nodded at him and continued to type on her phone, like he hadn't said a word. But for all her silence Anthea, as she chose to be called, was excellent at her job and he trusted her to do as he said promptly. Mycroft stood from his desk picking up his trusted umbrella. "I'm going to go see my brother please take care of my affairs for the duration of my absence. Oh if the director calls with the green light on Project Hawthorn begin the recruitment of John Watson immediately."

"I will see to it Sir." She said with a nod as Mycroft left the room and walked to the Conservatory Garden Preparation Room.


	2. Chapter 2

_I do not own this show at all. Now that that is out of the way please enjoy the story._

Mycroft stepped out into the Conservatory Garden covered from head to toe in protective clothing. It almost looked like he was wearing a diving suit without the flippers. He had on a gas mask that was designed to allow his face to be seen and his trusted umbrella was traded in for the one he only used in the Garden. Grey bees swarmed around him but he no longer had the paranoid fear of getting stung that he used to have thanks to the thickness of the suit and so he paid them no mind. He walked toward the central courtyard his umbrella swinging as he walked with a bit of arrogance in his step. A folder of cases was held under his arm a peace offering of sorts for his younger brother.

He found Sherlock in his usual spot in the main courtyard near his office window. Here the garden was at its most tame, and most resembled a garden. There was a decorative fountain that led to small man made stream that flowed out to the rest of the Garden. There were statues and benches set up that gave the illusion of a place meant to entertain guests, though no one without sinister intent would dare to entertain a guest here. Sherlock was lying down curled up on a padded bench nearly covered with climbing vines.

The dark haired man hadn't bothered changing out of his dressing gown or the t shirt and pajama pants he wore to bed. The young man was thin, thinner than he'd ever been and Mycroft feared he'd begun skipping his meals again. He lay there dead to the world a fat orange tabby he'd named Mycroft in order to annoy his brother had curled up against his chest. It purred as he absentmindedly ran his fingers through its fur, the only sigh besides the rise and fall of his chest that he was alive. He didn't turn as he heard Mycroft approach as he used to do in the earlier days of his confinement here. He didn't rage at the older man or threaten to remove the gas mask in a fit. He lay there petting the cat looking for all the world as if he did not know Mycroft was right behind him.

Mycroft stopped in front of him and leaned on his umbrella. His eyes narrowed at the sight of his younger brother dutifully ignoring him in a way that went against his nature. He put the case files down on a pedestal that had at one point housed a decorative sculpture. Now it was covered in vines and untouched case files. He scrunched his nose at the decaying papers but otherwise ignored the evidence of his brothers fading spirit. It seemed as though all his younger brother did these days was breathe in the scents of the plants and laze about. "Hello brother. Are you feeling well today?"

He received only silence in answer and Sherlock hadn't responded to him in any other way. He simply continued petting the cat not even pausing for a second. Mycroft frowned but decided to continue the conversation and hope something he did could get through to the younger man.

"I have some news for you. Project Hawthorn is being reopened you'll soon be having some more guests. More animals are being brought into the testing phase. We might even be able to get you a dog." Mycroft said hopeful for some response from the despondent lump that used to be his little brother. He might as well have been talking to a sack of potatoes for all the response he got.

He sighed, the sound a rush of static through the mask as he felt his hopes begin to shatter yet again. "Human testing will also resume. It will be a limited trial. So far there is only one who fits the criteria for testing but here soon you'll have a friend. There will be at least one human who won't have to wear a protective suit just to talk to you."

"A friend?" Sherlock spat talking for the first time in weeks. The still form on the bench became fluid as Sherlock shot up and rounded on his brother scarring off the cat. He pointed at the older man his face twisted in anger his words dripping with vitriol and sarcasm as he stalked toward the older man. "I don't have friends Mycroft as you always say caring is a disadvantage."

"A lesson I taught you perhaps a bit well but even you cannot survive without human interaction. So I've decided to have another test subject brought in for Project Hawthorn." Mycroft said plainly as though he wasn't secretly pleased that he'd managed to get a reaction from his little brother.

"Of course you don't mean yourself I can only imagine what it would be like for you and I to spend every waking moment trapped in this prison together." Sherlock said mocking in his tone as he glared at the older man.

"This is not a prison Sherlock." Mycroft sighed resisting the urge to rub at his temple to chase away the headache brought on by his brother's actions.

Sherlock snorted. "You can call my cage whatever you like but that doesn't change what it is. If I can't leave this garden of my own free will what does that make this place?"

"I will not have this fight with you again Sherlock. You know exactly what you did to land yourself here do not blame me for the consequences your actions brought on you." Mycroft said calmly trying to be the reasonable brother.

"So it is a prison then." Sherlock said triumphantly.

"Enough of this childish behavior Sherlock, if not for me you would be dead!" Mycroft snapped harshly his umbrella stabbing the ground for emphasis.

"Everyone believes I am dead, everyone but you and the rest of my guards. I even have my own tombstone." He said flatly throwing himself back down on the bench. Mycroft the cat jumped up a second later curling onto Sherlock's chest purring loudly as he kneaded at the man's chest.

"Nonetheless I have reopened Project Hawthorn and another test subject will be brought in. You'll have a person you talk to without them fearing for their lives whenever they get too close to you. I believe that you will benefit from the presence of another human being that shares the same condition you do." Mycroft said keeping a close eye on his younger brother looking for any change in expression. He wasn't disappointed.

Sherlock sat up abruptly disturbing the cat. "Do whatever you want Mycroft I don't care. Bring someone else into this torment but do not lie to me and say you're doing this for my own good. We both know that's not true. _Now get out of my cell!_" He hissed through his teeth.

Mycroft smiled smugly. "As you wish Sherlock."

He turned and headed back toward the Conservatory Garden Preparation Room to get decontaminated. He opened the return entrance and let the airlock seal behind him reminding him of all the reasons he had to be careful each time he visited his brother. The bland white and grey room had to be sealed to prevent accidental poisonings and multiple decontamination showers had to be taken. He sighed and entered the first of the decontamination showers wash over him. He got out of the protection suit and gas mask leaving them for the Preparation Team to inspect, repair if needed, and further clean.

After that was through he went through a second precautionary shower as to be certain he carried none of the toxins on him. He didn't flinch as the scalding water and strong soaps washed over him cleansing him. He took another two showers the next freezing and the one after that scalding again before he stepped into the air dryer and was dried off. He straightened up the mess that his hair had become, changed into a three piece suit, and picked up his umbrella feeling more like himself.

Anthea stood outside the door in the hallway waiting for him having been alerted by the automatic alarm that went off whenever a door to the Conservatory Garden was opened that he was returning. She handed him a file and walked beside him ready to update him on whatever he had missed during his little chat with his brother. "Has the recruitment of John Watson begun?" He asked.

Anthea gave a curt nod even as she typed at her phone, multitasking as she often did. "The director took a look through his files and declared him a worthy candidate. I have used an old contact of ours a Mr. Mike Stamford an old university friend of John's to approach him with an offer to work here as a caretaker for Sherlock and an assistant to Mrs. Hudson. A series of necessary vaccinations before he begins working can be used to slip him the serum discretely."

Mycroft nodded impressed as he always was with Anthea's skill and initiative. "See to it then."

She looked at him from the corner of her eye. "Are you sure this will work sir?"

Mycroft smiled as he thought of Sherlock's reaction earlier. "I am quite sure. Sherlock was interested, although of course he was too stubborn to admit it. He seems to forget how well I can read him, no matter though. This will be good for him it is the first thing he has responded to in months. I trust you to have things ready for Dr. Watson by the time he arrives."

She nodded looking as though she wasn't paying attention but Mycroft knew better. She was already five steps ahead of her duties as she always was. "I've already sent out a team to prepare the Garden house for his arrival. They should be done within the hour."

Mycroft smiled. "It was nice to see my little brother acting more like himself again. Let's hope this Dr. Watson can keep him that way."

_Thank yous to everyone, who reviewed, followed, and/or favorited. _


	3. Chapter 3

_I do not own this show at all. Now that that is out of the way please enjoy the story._

The last thing Mike Stamford expected to happen that day was to receive a phone call from Anthea. He hadn't heard from her since he'd last seen Sherlock Holmes shaking and screaming as he was loaded into the back of a van. Sherlock had been in a bad way in those days and though the junkie had saved him on more than one account Mike had agreed with Mycroft that Sherlock needed to be stopped for his own good. So when Mycroft told him his plan he went along with it. He lied through his teeth about what happened to the police telling them the story Mycroft had supplied him. He even spoke at Sherlock's false funeral as one of the only people that could stand the man. After that business was over Mycroft sent him money to keep him quiet and though it had helped to pay the bills and keep his family comfortable the money dried up but the guilt never did. He used to visit him in the Garden but he quit after a few months unable to take the look of disgust and betrayal on Sherlock's face.

"Mike Stamford." The voice on the other side of the phone chimed and the only thought that went through Mike's head was that Anthea did not sound as sinister as she should.

"Yes." He hoped he did not sound as weak as he felt. This felt too much like what had led him to betray Sherlock already.

"We have an offer for you." Anthea said and she barely gave him time to answer before she began laying out a plan that involved another old friend and another betrayal. His face paled and he was certain that his heart had taken up a different beat. When she hung up Mike looked at his phone his hands shaking. He had to take a seat and hold his head in his hands. John Watson one of the few people he could remember from university. John Watson who had been a good friend and a good man, they wanted to bring him into the same mess he'd gotten Sherlock into. Mike had listened as Anthea told him where to go and when to get there so that he could bump into John and lead him into what could only be a trap. The worst thing though was that he had to go along with it. What choice did he have? Mycroft Holes only cared for two things in this world his country and his brother and Mike had seen what he'd done to his brother.

The next day as he sat where they told him to wait on a bench in the park and waited for John to walk by, he resolved that if John looked well, if he looked happy with his life he wouldn't say anything. In fact he would attempt to get Mycroft to leave him alone, but if John looked like he wasn't doing well then whatever Mycroft had planned wouldn't be so bad then. At least he wouldn't be ruining a good life and he was lying to himself. He would do it no matter what because if Mycroft Holmes wanted him there wasn't anything anyone could do to stop him. This betrayal may hurt but at least it would be better for John to be eased into it instead of being kidnapped and drugged by Mycroft's men.

Mycroft's intel appeared to be as creepily accurate as ever as John walked by at the exact second that he was scheduled to. When he saw John limping past him on a cane with his face shadowed and dark as though a lifetime of horrible things had etched themselves onto his face, the first thought that went through Mike's head was 'this is not the John Watson I knew'. But he had a pat to play and even though he knew he would regret it he got up and ran after him calling out. "John! John Watson."

He watched the other man do a double take and turn to see him. There was no recognition on his face though there was the look of someone trying to remember. He smiled trying not to look strained or guilty as he took the other man's hand and shook it enthusiastically to cover his nerves. "Stamford! Mike Stamford. We were at Bart's together."

"Yes sorry yes Mike hello." John said as he transferred his cane into his other hand so that he could shake Mike's.

"Yeah I know I got fat." Mike said with a smile that was almost genuine, he had been good friends with John.

"No." John said trying to save his ego and with that Mike knew that some of the man he used to know was still there.

"I heard you were abroad somewhere getting shot at. What happened?" Mike said and regretted it instantly he'd always had a habit of saying the wrong thing.

John gave him a self-depreciating smile and shrugged. "I got shot."

Mike frowned and tried to backpedal the conversation to take back what he said somehow. "Come on let's get a cup of coffee and catch up."

"I think I'd rather have a tea." John said with a tired smile.

They walked to a small coffee stall that was set up near the park and walked back to a bench with their drinks. The small talk between them had fallen into a rhythm of missteps and awkward pauses. Neither of them were comfortable with each other again yet but the awkward pauses were becoming less and less frequent and the conversation was beginning to flow more naturally. John was changed by the war and that was obvious but in many ways he was the same. He still didn't have a clue how to dress, in truth neither did he but he had someone to prevent him from looking like a complete disaster, and John still had that morbid gallows humor he'd always had.

"Are you still at Bart's then?" John asked and Mike began to see an opening for Mycroft's plan forming.

"Yeah. I'm teaching now though, bright young things like we used to be. God I hate them." He laughed and to his surprise John laughed too. "What about you just staying in town until you get yourself sorted?"

John shifted on his seat. "I can't afford London on an army pension."

Mike closed his eyes with a silent prayer that this slight would be forgiven. "If you're looking for a job I have an old friend who is looking for a doctor to see to his younger brother. The man has poor health and he can't even leave the manor. They also need a hand with the grounds keeper she's getting on in years and needs a helping hand. Its good money and food and board are included. You might never want to leave." He said with a laugh that quickly turned sour.

John laughed though his was tinged with bitterness. "I don't think they would take me, an ex-army doctor with a psychosomatic limp and a tremor in my hand, who would want to hire that."

"No I think that you would be perfect for the job John and you're not really in a position to refuse it." Mike said over his tea faking happiness like he faked interest during his student's oral reports. "From what you've told me finding work has been tough and you live in a depressing little bedsit. I know these people and they've helped me out of tough scrapes before and I hear the garden is very nice."

John frowned into his drink. "It's a lot to take in, but why would they want me to be an assistant to their groundskeeper I have no experience with landscaping and with my leg..." He trailed off giving a dirty look at his cane.

Mike shrugged. "They mostly want you to see to Sherlock and he spends a lot of time in the garden. As for helping out the groundskeeper the chores they give you shouldn't put too much strain on you. Mrs. Hudson probably just needs an ear to listen to her gossip apparently her and Mrs. Turner had a falling out. Word to the wise never give her your phone number."

John sighed heavily. "I do need a job what with Harry cleaning out my bank account all the time and I could use a change of scenery, but I don't want to leave London."

"Then you should go stay for a while and if you don't like it then you should leave. Until then it's a job you desperately need. As far as your issues with Harry go I think you should get a new card and cut her off if she's that bad." Mike said as he lifted his tea taking a drink when he finished speaking.

"She's all I have left and right now I'm all that she has. I'm not going to just abandon her like that even if she does use all my money. Besides can you imagine what would happen if I did cut her off?" John said with an exasperated sigh.

"I shudder to think of it." Mike said with a smile. "Well I think I'll give them your name and number and they can call you if they are interested."

"Alright. We'll see if they want me." John said with a nod. He stood to leave but turned back to Mike before he left. "Some other time then?"

"Some other time." Mike said raising his tea.

Once John was out of earshot Mike pulled out his phone, shaking his head in regret even as he did so, and called Anthea. "He accepted the offer."

"Good would you like a cheque or would you prefer it if we wired the amount to your account." Anthea asked him.

"Just wire it to my account." Mike said through gritted teeth already feeling the guilt crushing him again. He wished he still had his flip phone so that he could snap it shut and settled for angrily pressing his finger against the end all button. He looked to where John was limping away and said under his breath. "Good luck mate."

_Sorry for taking so long I got caught up in some other things but I will not be abandoning this story. I may have a few long hiatus's but I will be completing this. __Thank yous to everyone, who read, reviewed, followed, and/or favorited._


	4. Chapter 4

_I do not own this show at all. Now that that is out of the way please enjoy the story._

The green room was safe, the one safe place he knew anymore. He didn't know if it was day or night he only knew that in the green room the he could breathe and it was gloriously warm like a sauna. Sherlock couldn't breathe now the air was stale and thin and cold, so cold. It crept into his lungs through his mouth and burned with freezing cold that sank into his lungs and rested there like a dagger of ice. He'd been dragged out of his cage by faceless men in long nosed gas masks that his exhausted mind morphed into monsters with elephant trunks and a bug's eyes. He was picked up and held down onto a gurney his body strapped in restraints coiled around him. They pushed him through a maze of blinding white and gleaming silver. He shivered as the cold easily sunk into the thin trousers they provided. His shirtless chest glimmered with sweat that made the cold air like ice on his skin.

They stopped in the experimentation room unstrapping him from the gurney and easily leading him to the table in the middle of the room. He remembered attacking them clawing at them and screaming trying to run but he had been cowed by failure by the pain of being dragged and pulled by men much stronger than he was. He obediently lay down on the table and made no move to stop them or hinder them as they strapped him to the table. His only protest was an involuntary flinch from the cold of the metal against his bare skin. The overhead light came on blinding him and he blinked against the searing white that left its impression on his vision even when the scientists would lean over him and block the light.

They put a mask over his mouth and he breathed into it from deep in his lungs until a full minute had passed and thy pulled away the mask to begin taking his vital signs. He went through a full checkup by one of Mycroft's personal doctors to make sure that he was well and to see how their treatments were progressing and by the time they finished taking down the last measurements his lungs were burning cold. The stale air was thinner here or was that just his mind playing tricks on him but nonetheless it burned his throat and made him cough and hack until a mask was pressed over his mouth and sickly sweet air humid and warm filled his lungs soothing the hurts and casting a haze over his mind.

What followed was a half aware blur that would have been nightmarish without the sickening sweetness in his lungs. There were needles that offered no high instead taking blood for samples and pumped in more of the sickly green liquid that had felt like death in his veins the first time he felt it and now felt like warmth and life. They biopsied his organs and took samples of every aspect of him to study and see if their work was producing fruit. He saw him sometimes in the haze induced blur, his brother looming behind the masked scientists a cold look on his face. He could hear his bland voice filling his ears telling him how he'd asked for this how it never would have happened if he's just listened until he felt like they might explode from the force of them. He felt weak and strung out when the scientists evaporated one by one like fog in sunshine and his brother came to lean over him a pitying look on his maskless face.

"You should have just listened to me brother dear for now we're both monsters." Mycroft said his voice stern as he picked up one of the scalpels. One hand went over his chest pressing into it as though to hold him down as the other brought the scalpel to the base of his sternum. "Now let's see if this monster has a heart shall we?"

"No!" Sherlock screamed his body jolting as he flung himself forward heaving breaths from his lungs that didn't quench his body's thirst for air as he felt his chest to see if his brother had tried to cut his heart out. He took deep breaths when he felt his chest solid and cool and blessedly dry save for a layer of sweat. Mycroft the cat who like his namesake kept tabs on him endlessly jumped up onto his lap and pawed at his hands until he began to rub one of them down the cat's fur. The purring was soothing helping to bring his mind out of the nightmare. Lestrade was watching him the German Shepard's ears perked and body tensed as in sniffed for the threat that made Sherlock wake screaming.

He groaned wiping his face as he got out of bed making Mycroft swat at him for ceasing his petting. He ignored the cat and made his way to the kitchen where he opened the fridge and grabbed the milk. He pulled the cap off and brought it to his lips drinking it straight from the bottle. He put it back wiping his face with his hand feeling much better as it had soothed the rawness of his throat without the metallic taste of water that he knew from previous usually sent him back into the memories. Taking his drink with him he sat down heavily in his chair in the living room the familiar green leather offering him some distance from the nightmare and memories he never could delete or lock away in his mind palace.

He shivered the thought coming to mind before he could stop it. His brother was no longer content to leave him alone to rot in his prison where he couldn't even close the windows if he wanted to. Now he was going to be trapped here with some spy Mycroft had chosen to keep an eye on him and the thought alone made him wince. He'd be meeting his new cellmate soon and that was what had most likely pulled that memory to the front of his mind and morphed it into a nightmare. He looked out the window at the jungle Mycroft had the gall to call a garden and wondered what kind of fool his brother would manage to rope into sharing this lovely prison with him.

* * *

><p>Two weeks after talking to Mike in the park John's life had taken a slight turn for the better. The small chat with his old university friend had broken up the monotony and encouraged him to get out into the world again. He didn't do much except taking walks around the city and eating cheap food in cheap cafes, but the world no longer looked as dull and grey as it used to. There were some days he still struggled to get out of bed and he still had nightmares that woke him up screaming in the middle of the night but he was somewhat hopeful.<p>

He was surprised though when his phone rang as he was walking to his therapists for his appointment. With some trepidation he looked at the number realizing instantly that it was one he didn't know. Feeling relieved that it wasn't Harry drunk dialing him he put it to his ear and was surprised at the posh sound of the voice on the other end as they asked his name. "Dr. John Watson?"

He shifted moving the phone to a more comfortable position hoping that whoever was calling him wasn't just calling to tell him that something horrible had happened to Harry. "Speaking."

"I am calling on account of Mycroft Holmes about a job offer on the recommendation of Mike Stamford." The woman said with ease and professionalism that did not fit the youthful sound of her voice.

"This is about the job?" It came out like a question as he honestly never expected to hear anything from them at all. It wasn't normal for one thing and it seemed so farfetched to believe that a recommendation from Mike Stamford alone could get him hired without a resume or an application. He was both disturbed by them and impressed by Mike with how quickly they had decided to interview him without anything but the recommendation of an old university friend to go on.

"Yes, Mr. Holmes requires a live in doctor to see to his younger brother Sherlock. He has requested an interview with you tomorrow at noon. Is this acceptable to you?" The woman asked the cold clinical tone of her voice making John feel like he was being interrogated.

He thought about it for a moment but they had mentioned Mike and he decided to trust his friend. "Yeah it's fine where will we be meeting?"

"Mr. Holmes will send a car for you. After being informed that time is of the essence Mr. Stamford informed us of your current address. Is this agreeable?" She said with the same professional tone they kept up through the call.

John pinched the bridge of his nose and reminded himself that he had let Mike talk him into this so he might as well go through with it. "Yes it should be."

"The car will be ready to pick you up at eleven please be ready to leave by then." The woman said before the line went dead. John stared at the phone confusion evident on his face as he looked at the seemingly innocent device. Why did it feel like he'd just made a huge mistake?

_Thank yous to everyone, who read, reviewed, followed, and/or favorited._


	5. Chapter 5

_I do not own this show at all. Now that that is out of the way please enjoy the story._

The car had arrived to pick him up at eleven thirty just like mystery woman from the phone said it would. They drove out into the country to a large estate that was dominated by a large dome that was pale white and a bit of an eyesore when compared to the gracefully aging Victorian Estate it dwarfed. When they pulled into the drive he was shepherded through halls that looked like the set from a very expensive movie production to an office that over looked the Garden. It was a study in contemporary opulence and John looked around the room warily uncomfortable in such an expensive man sitting across from him seemed to have no such troubles however. He looked at home sitting at the desk like it was the throne from which he ruled the world.

"Dr. Watson before we commence with this interview you must sign this non-disclosure agreement." Mycroft said as the woman who was texting on her phone beside him handed John a manila folder and a pen with one hand not even looking up from her phone.

"Is there any reason that this is necessary?" John asked even as he skimmed over the contract.

"We will be discussing some delicate matters, a few of which involve national security. I have a minor position in the British Government and my reasons for needing a live in doctor stem from that area of my life. I am afraid I cannot discuss anything more with you until you sign." The man said as he gestured to the folder and John nodded absently as he signed the paper.

Mycroft nodded. "My brother Sherlock is a private detective of sorts, he prefers to be called a consulting detective as he consulted with the police when they came across cases that they could not handle without his assistance. He was investigating a case in Baskerville that involved a ludicrous claim that a genetically engineered hound had escaped from the facility and terrorized the locals in the surrounding area. He proved the accusations false and caught the man responsible for perpetrating the hoax but during his investigation he managed to get infected with an extremely contagious biological weapon."

"We feared that he would die but when he went three weeks without any symptoms we tested him. Sherlock is immune but as he carries the virus he is a danger for others to be around. A vaccine has been made but so far the test results have been less than promising. A certain genetic profile is needed for the vaccine to take effect and my brother has grown despondent without human interaction. We need someone who is compatible with the vaccine to live in the Garden with my brother until a suitable cure can be found, preferably someone with a medical background. All of the available staff have been tested but so far none have turned up positive."

"So you think that I could fit this profile?" John asked.

Mycroft nodded. "We're not sure we'd need to look at your medical records to be sure you won't have an adverse reaction to the vaccine and run a few tests to be sure."

John shrugged sure that it wouldn't matter much either way. His life was already dull and grey and sad as it was this was the most excitement he'd had in months. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt to check."

Mycroft smirked and John suddenly felt like a canary staring down a cat. "Good Anthea will escort you to the lab and if you prove compatible we will be in touch."

"If you'll follow me." The texting woman said as she walked out of the door.

John hurried after her trying and failing to keep track of the many twists and turns their journey through the seemingly endless halls took them through. She hadn't even looked up from her phone once but she navigated the halls with practiced ease. She stopped in front of a door and held it open.

"The lab is in here, take a hospital gown from the shelf and change in the first door on the left. You can wait on the table until they are ready to see to you. The exam should not last for more than an hour. After you are through get dressed and meet me back here I will escort you to the car."

John nodded along and though he was tempted he didn't ask for a date as he might be getting a job here and he really did not want to get on the wrong foot with anyone. He entered the room and followed the directions he'd been given. Once he was seated in nothing but a paper thin hospital gown on a cold hospital bed he seriously began to question his life choices. He was being watched like a rat in a maze by three scientists and a doctor in a room that reminded him of a doctor's office from a science fiction show.

The scientists reminded him of bad medical dramas he'd watched in uni, they were all in medical masks and scrubs with blue gloves on their hands and lab coats on. The doctor was a woman dressed in a black skirt and floral blouse with a lab coat. The doctor was by far the least annoying person there. She was quick and efficient as she went through the inventory and gathered everything she would need for the exam. So far she was acting with as much dignity as a medical exam deserved, unlike the scientists who were looking at him like he was a brand new lab rat.

"Hi I'm Sarah Sawyer." The doctor said as she reached out to shake his hand. Her pretty brunette hair was pulled back in a ponytail and if he wasn't there for a medical exam John would have been tempted to ask her on a date.

"John Watson." He said with a smile that was surprisingly genuine given that he could feel the scientists eyes on him like a sample under a microscope.

She gestured to the three men in white lab coats with masks over their faces. "Don't mind them, they're just a bit too eager to find someone compatible with the vaccine."

He smiled weakly feeling exposed under the scrutiny of the scientists. "I hope to be of some help then."

She smiled back at him. "I'm sure you will be after I'm done they're going to look you over and give you a few shots to boost you're receptivity to the vaccine. The shots are mostly harmless the most serious side effect we've had so far has been a runny nose. So if you're ready we'll just begin the exam."

* * *

><p>Sherlock looked through the cases Mycroft left beginning to wonder if all the cake was going to his brothers brain. None of these cases were more than a two, even Anderson could figure them out if he put more than two brain cells into it. He flicked through them getting more and more frustrated with the lack of anything that could keep the boredom away. He threw out case after case each one solved as soon as he'd read it and even the most difficult ones only took a minute or so to solve. He was going to die of boredom at this rate. He picked up a folder skimming through it the pieces falling in place like a children's puzzle.<p>

He yelled throwing the file, then another, and another, until he picked up the case they came in and threw it too. it bounced along the ground tipping sideways spilling out a mess of paper and something else an envelope typically used in mail delivery. Had Mycroft finally given him some evidence to test instead of crime scene photos and reports? He picked it up noting that there were no labels, no stamp that said evidence, but there was something in the package. A phone, by the feel of it, it felt similar enough to the one Mycroft had. He pulled the envelope open and picked up the phone in the ugly pink case. He turned it over in his hands his eyes scanning every inch of it no detail missed. It was new, the case and the phone, both new. He turned it on and saw a notification in the messages.

He opened the messenger and read the text. "Hello Sexy. I know you're not dead. You must be bored on big brothers leash so let's play a game let's play murder. See you soon. JM."

Another message popped up this one a picture of a pair of white trainers. Another ding and another message followed. "Catch me if you can. JM. ;)"

_They meet in the next chapter and JM is just getting started. Thank yous to everyone, who read, reviewed, followed, and/or favorited._


	6. Chapter 6

_I do not own this show at all. Now that that is out of the way please enjoy the story._

Sherlock paced through the garden trampling down a new path in the undergrowth. The other test subjects were avoiding him even Mycroft who rarely left his side had deserted him. He'd been pacing for a while now and the grinding of the plants underfoot was beginning to calm him some, the scents rising up from the crushed stems and leaves relaxing him involuntarily. He snarled and stormed to the center of the Garden where a replica of his flat on Baker Street sat. He slammed open the door and stormed up to his living room where he picked up his violin his churning thoughts spilling out of the strings in a melody that could only loosely be called music letting out his agitation in the only way left to him. Calmer now by his own means, instead of Mycroft's ever present attempts to control him, he collapsed into his chair and let his muscles relax and unwind.

He pressed the phone between his hands and rested them under his chin. This JM person intrigued him. They would have had to have either broken in or somehow coerced one of Mycroft's minions in their pocket. Either way it was nothing short of impressive. Mycroft was meticulous when it came to his staff and his security. It was no easy feat to break into any of Mycroft's estates, but he had the proof that someone had succeeded in his hands. They'd gone through a lot of trouble to provide him with a mystery and that was in itself troubling. Compounded with the knowledge that JM knew he was alive when as far as the world was concerned Sherlock Holmes had overdosed and was dead and buried in the family plot it was more than enough to raise his suspicions.

He could warn Mycroft about the hole in his security, but his brother had been content to let him rot without any mental stimulation and if this JM was willing to provide him with some then he didn't see any point into bringing a stop to his game. After all this time there was finally something fun going on and Sherlock wasn't about to let Mycroft ruin everything this time. He looked at the phone again inspecting the picture of the trainers with a critical eye. They were hidden somewhere in the Garden and he knew where. The picture had showed him enough.

No the issue was that he was thinking optimistically and he knew it. This wouldn't be the first time some of Mycroft's minions had dangled a false mystery in front of him though admittedly it would be the most clever attempt so far. If it was a prank it also wouldn't be the first time he'd been so desperate for a mystery that he'd fallen headfirst into it. If he checked and the shoes were not there then he would give them the satisfaction of pulling the wool over his eyes again. In the end he knew that he would go down to 221C and if it did prove to be a prank then at least he now had a mobile phone with which he could endlessly torment Mycroft.

He stood placing the phone in his pocket and walked down to 221C pressing the door open with trepidation. He walked into the room and looked down at the floor. In the center of the room was a pair of white trainers. He walked over to them but he didn't pick them up, if there was any evidence on them he didn't want to contaminate it. The phone dinged and buzzed in his hand and Sherlock looked at the new text. "This one's a freebie, but the next one's gonna cost you. JM. ;)"

"I don't have any money. SH." Sherlock replied deciding not to ask about the camera that JM so obviously had on him.

Almost as soon as he sent the text he got a reply. "Now Sherlock Dear who said anything about money. I'm after something much more valuable. JM."

"And what would that be? SH." Sherlock replied.

The phone dinged and Sherlock read the reply. "A challenge. JM."

* * *

><p>He didn't reply and tucked the phone into his pocket. If Mycroft didn't know about this he would find out soon unless he got started. He left the room and came back with blue gloves on his and took the shoes into what had been in the real 221B Mrs. Hudson's flat, but here it was his lab. He wasn't even sure why Mycroft had bothered to give him a state of the art lab when he didn't even provide him with any evidence when he did provide him with cases or experimental samples when the cases dried out. Perhaps he thought he'd spend every waking moment studying the plant life. Which he did, but he'd grown out of that in the first six months of his stay in the Garden. At least now the lab would get a proper workout now that he finally had some evidence to work with.<p>

Only a week after the most invasive medical exam he'd ever had the misfortune of experiencing John Watson had gotten the call. It turned out that he was a match and as soon as he was ready the next stage was all set to begin. He'd packed up all his worldly possessions, which fit in one duffle bag, and let his landlord know that he would not be returning at Anthea's insistence. He'd signed the consent forms she'd given him before he left and filled out a mountain of paperwork at Mycroft's office when he arrived effectively signing his life away all just because he was bored. Now he was again sitting on a cold hospital bed in nothing but a thin hospital gown that left little to the imagination feeling exposed.

Sara walked into the room and smiled at him and he smiled back with trepidation. She gathered up her equipment including the syringe that contained the vaccine placing them on a silver tray that she brought over to the bed and set down on a small stand beside it.

"It should be an easy day for you since you've already had your exam, just the vaccination. You won't even need to see the scientists. In testing the vaccine we've found that it takes about two weeks to gain full effectiveness so you'll be spending that time in quarantine to prevent any spread of the virus, just in case. Once that is through Mycroft will introduce you to Sherlock." Sarah said as she unpackaged a sanitary wipe and rubbed a small patch of skin near his elbow clean.

"And after that?" John asked as he watched her clean his arm.

"The cure research will continue until we can find a vaccine compatible with Sherlock's biology. Once that is accomplished and Sherlock has been administered the vaccine you will be free to go." She said as she prepped the vaccine.

"I guess this is it then." John said softly as though the weight of what he was doing had finally struck him.

Sarah frowned. "Guess it is. You can always back out now. If you choose to walk away I'm not going to stop you."

"No it's alright." John said waving off her suggestion. "I chose this and I'll see it through."

* * *

><p>"What happened I feel like I got hit by a lorry." John said as he sat up. He looked around the room not recognizing a single thing about it. It was silver and white and covered in strange blinking panels. Waking up there was like waking up in the medical bay from an old episode of Star Trek.<p>

The door opened with a whoosh and John looked over at Anthea who was dressed in a suit with long gloves and a gas mask. He looked at her blankly for a moment before he remembered who she was. He stood to greet her but she didn't give him the opportunity to. "You had a reaction to the vaccine. You were unconscious for three days, but in the meantime we've run some tests and you've become resistant to the virus. We've decided that it would be better to introduce you to Sherlock today."

John nodded and stood ignoring the dizzy feeling that nearly had him falling back onto the bed. He forced himself back up and stood still for a moment to let the dizziness pass. For being unconscious for three days he felt surprisingly well save for the dizzy spell and thee bone deep ache. Anthea took his cane down from a table beside the bed and handed it to him. He looked at it with a glare but used it to steady himself. When Anthea walked away he followed her and he was thankful that it was a short walk to a door that defiantly reminded him of Star Trek. The door opened flooding the corridor with light and he followed her out into what looked like paradise.

Mike wasn't lying when he said the Garden was very nice. Stepping into it felt like stepping onto an alien world. there were colors he'd never seen before and the smell that wafted over him was wild and it reminded him of when he felt alive. He limped further out into the Garden so enthralled with the world around him that he didn't even notice that a third person ad joined them.

"So this is who my brother decided to sentence to this hell with me?" A deep voiced man said behind him and John whirled to face him.

Standing dressed in a suit and tie with a white button down shirt that felt so out of place in the wild scenery that it was jarring was a man. He was tall looking down at him with crystal blue eyes filled with distaste. His dark hair was wild as the garden around him and he seemed to at once belong there and feel out of place.

"Sherlock Holmes." He said haughtily holding out his hand with a shark like grin.

"John Watson." John said with a smile that was as false as the next words out of his mouth. "It's nice to meet you."

_Thank yous to everyone, who read, reviewed, followed, and/or favorited._


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